Paris je t'aime. I've spent seven years looking for you, dancing on stage for the children of the village dressed as a giant ostrich no less, trying to find a French friend to share a bottle of wine with on a Friday night, mingling with chasseurs guffawing about their measly winter catch, making polite conversation with a Frenchman who thought to explain rugby to me he would just shout louder. Yes, the French love affair has, at times been trying. I wondered whether I could ever feel at home ...that was until I found you gay Paris.
A late Autumn break seemed the perfect time to head to to the city while our restaurant closed for a few weeks rest after a long and busy summer. I've stayed once or twice in Paris for a friend's hen weekend, for my own hen weekend and in between train and eurostar plenty of times too. This time it was different, I had more time to soak up this fabulous place and fall in love with it like a first date.
From our apartment in republique we could see Sacre Coeur, tour montparnasse and beyond, all in a misty wet wintery way but so romantic all the same. A gorgeous man in the cafe next door gave us a free apero and told us about his collection of 2000 shoes! We did the tourist thing and hopped on a tour bus around the sights of this structured but free feeling city. I treated myself to a camel beret and drank kir at teatime with the other thirty somethings on their way home from work. On and off the metro we floated, to the Louvre, Tour Eiffel and on to a tear jerking service in Notre Dame, eating and drinking all the way.
The brasserie Lipp was an amazing find, full of buzz and excitement, waiters frantically toing and froing in floor length pinnies - archetypical of a Parisian bistro. Joking with bags of ooh la la about men who prefer a plump, full breast and those who like a skinny leg - chicken of course but hilarious all the same. I'm all for a bit of cheeky humour and this place filled my veins with France, frenchness and everything I love about this warm and tender place. After dark we headed to the lights of St Germain to young people and bars open til the small hours. We took it all in, I pined over pink lace up brogues in the shop windows and we sadly considered what a shame we can't afford to live here.
Back on the train home and as we edged closer to the countryside a group of local fonctionnaires hopped aboard after clocking off from a day shuffling more papers. They make me feel depressed and remind me about the negative, small minded side of France. Their attitudes are as old fashioned as their moonboots and they glare at us like we are second class citizens. It didn't matter because we know what it is that makes us feel homesick from time to time, the massive differences between us and them. We were pleased to be home all the same to fresh air and our loving mutt. We dreamt merrily of Paris and it's open attitude and felt happy to know we're not etrangers everywhere after all.
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